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Issachar the Strong-Boned Donkey Who Kept Israel's Calendar

Reuben claimed the second day's offering by birth. Moses held the order, and Netanel of Issachar still brought the dish close.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Reuben Wanted the Second Day
  2. The Rows Between the Folds
  3. Rabbi Meir Named Issachar
  4. The Shoulder Stayed Bent

Jacob was dying, and he still had names to give. When he reached Issachar, the ninth son, he did not promise armies. He did not promise a throne.

Issachar the Strong-Boned Donkey Who Kept Israel's Calendar Click for full size

"Issachar is a strong-boned donkey, lying between the sheepfolds" (Genesis 49:14-15).

Jacob had worked fourteen years for his wives and six more for his flocks. He knew a load when he saw one. A donkey is lean. The bones show. Anyone looking knows what the animal is for: the long road, the weight no one else wants, the work that does not glitter.

Reuben Wanted the Second Day

Generations later, at the dedication of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, the tribal princes came forward with the same gift, one day each (Numbers 7:18-19). Judah went first. On the second day Netanel son of Tzuar, prince of Issachar, stepped toward the altar with a silver dish in his hands.

Reuben was already talking. Judah had led in the wilderness. Judah had gone first in the offerings. If not first place, Reuben said, then second should follow birth. The eldest had a claim.

Moses heard him and did not move the sequence. The order had been set by God, according to the journeys, not according to seniority.

Netanel still came. While Reuben argued, the dish kept moving. The verse that recorded that day used a word it did not spend on the others. Hikriv (הקריב). He brought it close. He pressed the offering forward instead of setting it down and stepping back. Issachar, second in line and never first in anyone's reckoning, left a mark in the language by refusing to wait for a better hour.

The Rows Between the Folds

"Lying between the sheepfolds," Jacob had said. Between two folds. Not fully inside one world or the other.

Issachar's scholars sat in the three rows before the Sanhedrin, the court that ruled on law. Faces toward the arguments. Places assigned. The space between knowing and ruling was a load, and they took it.

They kept the calendar. New moon. Festivals. The Sabbatical year. The Jubilee. If the count slipped, Passover fell on the wrong night. The Day of Atonement could be kept a day early or a day late. The nation's holy time turned on men whose learning showed the way a donkey's bones show, without ornament, from across a room.

He saw rest, that it was good. They read that rest as Torah, and they bent their shoulders to it. Other tribes would later come bearing presents, not as subjects to a king, but as people who needed the count to be right.

Rabbi Meir Named Issachar

Rabbi Meir was traveling through Samaria when a man stopped him and claimed descent from Joseph. Viceroy. Dreamer. The glamorous brother. Meir shook his head.

"From whom, then?" the man asked.

"From Issachar."

The man did not want that answer. Meir pointed at the list of Jacob's sons who went down to Egypt (Genesis 46:13). Among Issachar's sons was a name: Yov. A short syllable, like affliction. Issachar's line carried a name that means suffering and did not ask to be renamed.

The chief magistrate of the Samaritans heard what Meir had done and cut his own man with a rebuke. This rabbi removed you from Joseph, he said, and did not even manage to land you on Issachar. The glamour was gone. The load had not yet been accepted. That was the insult, and also the truth of the tribe. Joseph dazzled Egypt. Issachar calculated months.

The Shoulder Stayed Bent

Jacob had not been reaching for an insult. He had been recognizing a back that would not straighten for comfort.

Judah would produce kings. Joseph would run a famine. The soldier-tribes would be sung in battle. Issachar would sit between the folds, between labor and holiness, and keep the days from slipping. Month after month, in rooms where the calendar was kept, men with visible bones of learning bent over their work and said when Israel's sacred time began and ended.

Netanel had already shown the posture. He brought the dish close while a firstborn argued for rank. Rabbi Meir had already named the alternative to glamour. A donkey crouched between two folds, still carrying what it was given.

Strong-boned. Bent. Moving forward. Jacob had named them exactly.


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Bereshit Rabbah 98:12Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

It wasn't just a simple story; it was a portal to layers of meaning, hidden connections, and profound insights. Take Jacob's blessing to his son Issachar in (Genesis 49:14-15): “Issachar is a strong-boned donkey, lying between the sheepfolds. He saw rest, that it was good, and the land, that it was pleasant; and he bowed his shoulder to bear, and he became subject to a tribute of labor.” Sounds straightforward.

"Issachar is a strong-boned donkey" – the rabbis of the Bereshit Rabbah immediately jump on that image. Just as a donkey's bones are prominent, so too, they say, was Issachar's learning obvious for all to see. Their knowledge shone through them. “Lying between the sheepfolds” – this, according to the Rabbah, refers to the three rows of Torah scholars who would sit before the Sanhedrin, the ancient Jewish high court, when they deliberated. Imagine the scene: rows upon rows of brilliant minds, all dedicated to understanding and interpreting the Law.

What about the phrase, “He saw rest, that it was good”? Here, the Bereshit Rabbah equates "rest" with the Torah itself, referencing (Proverbs 4:2), “For a good lesson I have given you; [My Torah]." The Torah is the ultimate source of rest, of spiritual fulfillment. "And the land, that it was pleasant" – this too, is the Torah, echoing (Job 11:9): "]Its measure is] longer than the earth…" The Torah's wisdom is boundless, stretching beyond earthly limits.

“He bent his shoulder to bear” – this is the yoke of Torah, the commitment to studying and living by its teachings. “And he became subject to a tribute of labor” – this, the Rabbah says, refers to the two hundred heads of the Sanhedrin who came from the tribe of Issachar. What a powerhouse of legal and spiritual authority!

But wait, there's more! The Bereshit Rabbah offers another interpretation, focusing on the land of Issachar. Just as a donkey is low on either end and high in the middle, so too, the land of Issachar had valleys on either side and a mountain – Mount Tavor – in the middle. “Lying between the sheepfolds” – these are two valleys, the Valley of Pislan and the Valley of Yizre’el. “He saw rest, that it was good” – this is Tinam, a town on the border of Issachar. “And the land, that it was pleasant [na’ema]” – this is Na’im, another town nearby. It’s like the rabbis are painting a geographical portrait alongside a spiritual one.

“He bent his shoulder to bear” – now it's the yoke of the Land of Israel, the responsibility of settling and cultivating the land, fulfilling the mitzvot (commandments) associated with it. “He became subject to a tribute [mas] of labor” – here we get a fascinating disagreement between Rabbi Elazar and Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman. Rabbi Elazar says that unlike other tribes, Issachar didn't leave any remnants of the Canaanite nations in their territory. They were thorough in their conquest. Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman counters that Issachar did leave remnants, but these remnants were payers of taxes [misim]. Rav Asi adds that because they paid taxes, it was as though they were subjugated. A complex picture of power, responsibility, and compromise.

Finally, the Bereshit Rabbah offers one more intriguing perspective: “Issachar is a strong-boned donkey” – the cows of Issachar were fat and plentiful! The tribe would take them out to sea, and the nations of the world would be amazed by their size. But the Israelites would say, "You're amazed by these cows? You should see the owners of these cows when they're engaged in Torah study!" This led to many proselytes converting to Judaism.

And Rabbi Yehuda ben Rabbi Simon, in the name of Rav Aḥa, adds a playful twist: “Issachar is a strong-boned [garem] donkey” – Issachar, a donkey caused his existence [legarmeih]! This refers to the story of Leah and Rachel, where Leah gave Rachel mandrakes in exchange for a night with Jacob. How did Leah know when Jacob was coming home? She heard his donkey braying! That night, Leah conceived Issachar. (see Bereshit Rabba 99:10)

What do we take away from all this? The rabbis of the Bereshit Rabbah saw in Jacob's blessing a multi-layered prophecy. It was about Issachar's dedication to Torah study, the richness of their land, their role in the Sanhedrin, and even the circumstances of Issachar's conception. It's a reminder that the Torah is not just a text to be read, but a world to be explored, a source of endless wisdom and inspiration. It's evidence of the power of interpretation, the beauty of tradition, and the enduring relevance of ancient texts. What layers of meaning might you find within these verses?

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Bereshit Rabbah 94:7Bereshit Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

I was reading in Bereshit Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Genesis, and I stumbled across just such a moment. It revolves around a rather pointed exchange between Rabbi Meir, a prominent sage of the 2nd century, and a Samaritan.

Then a few verses later, "And the sons of Issachar: Tola, and Puva, and Yov, and Shimron" (Genesis 46:13). Seemingly just a list of names. But wait!

Bereshit Rabbah 94 recounts that Rabbi Meir encountered a Samaritan. "From where did you descend?" Rabbi Meir asks. The Samaritan replies, "From Joseph." Now, Joseph, as you likely know, was one of Jacob’s sons, sold into slavery in Egypt, who eventually rose to power. To claim descent from Joseph was a claim of belonging to the Israelite lineage, a connection to the covenant.

Rabbi Meir wasn't buying it. "No," he retorts. The Samaritan, taken aback, asks, "But rather from whom?" And Rabbi Meir drops a bombshell: "From Issachar."

Understandably, the Samaritan is puzzled. "From where do you know?" he asks. Rabbi Meir’s response is…well, it's unexpected. "As it is written: ‘And the sons of Issachar: Tola, and Puva, and Yov, and Shimron’ – these are the Samaritans."

Wait a minute. The sons of Issachar are the Samaritans? What’s going on here? It seems like Rabbi Meir is making a rather audacious claim, deriving a whole people’s origin from a simple list of names.

The story continues. The Samaritan, clearly rattled, goes to his own community’s patriarch and recounts the encounter. "A Jewish elder said to me a certain matter and it is astonishing!" he exclaims. He repeats Rabbi Meir’s claim that they descend not from Joseph, but from Issachar, based on the names of Issachar’s sons.

The patriarch's response is telling. "As you live," he says, "from Joseph he removed you, but he has not brought you to be from Issachar."

So, what’s the real story here? Was Rabbi Meir suggesting that the Samaritans were literally descended from Issachar? Probably not. As the Yefeh To’ar, a commentary on Bereshit Rabbah, explains, Rabbi Meir’s intention wasn't to redefine the Samaritans' ancestry, but to undermine their claim to be descended from Joseph. He was challenging their legitimacy, their connection to the Israelite heritage.

It's a fascinating example of how rabbinic tradition could use interpretation, even seemingly subtle readings of names, to make a point about identity, lineage, and belonging. It highlights the complex relationship between Jews and Samaritans in antiquity, a relationship often marked by tension and disagreement.

But the story also leaves us with a broader question: How do we define ourselves? How do we establish our connections to the past, and what happens when those connections are challenged? Maybe, like those names of Issachar's sons, our own identities hold more stories than we initially realize.

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Bamidbar Rabbah 13:15Bamidbar Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

The Torah portion describes the offerings brought by the leaders of the tribes of Israel at the dedication of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle. Each day, a different leader brought the same offering: a silver dish, a silver basin, and fine flour mixed with oil. But here's the thing: on the second day, when Netanel son of Tzuar, the prince of Issachar, presented his offering, the text uses a slightly different word: "hikriv" (Numbers 7:18-19). It says, "He presented his offering [hikriv]". Why this specific phrasing?

The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), in Bamidbar Rabbah, dives into this. It tells us that Reuben, the eldest son of Jacob, wasn't too happy about going second. He argued, "Hey, wait a minute! Judah got to go first on the journeys, just like in the travels through the wilderness. Shouldn't I get to go next, according to birth order?"

Reuben, feeling overlooked, stepping up to challenge the order. But Moses, our wise leader, sets him straight. According to Bamidbar Rabbah, Moses says, "From the mouth of the Holy One, blessed be He, it was stated to me: ‘Present the offerings [hakrev] in accordance with the journeys.’" Since the camp of Judah led the way during their travels, their tribes got to offer their sacrifices first. Within that camp, the Torah itself dictated the order: Judah, Issachar, then Zebulun (Numbers 2:1-9).

The Midrash doesn't stop there. It offers another interpretation of "hikriv." Maybe, it suggests, Moses actually "brought him near" – hikrivo – against Reuben’s will. In other words, perhaps Moses had to actively make sure Netanel got his turn.

And then there's a third possibility, a really intriguing one. "Presented his offering," it says, "it is as though he presented his offering first." Why? Because, according to Abba Ḥanan in the name of Rabbi Eliezer, Netanel was privileged to counsel the princes. He was a trusted advisor! Because of this wisdom, the verse ascribes to him as though he presented his offering first. Sometimes, it's not about birth order or who shouts the loudest. It's about wisdom, counsel, and the ability to guide others. Because he was privileged to offer good counsel, he merited understanding for his whole tribe. As it says, "From the children of Issachar, possessors of understanding of the times" (I (Chronicles 12:3)3), and "Princes of Issachar were with Deborah" (Judges 5:15).

The Midrash goes even further, linking Issachar to the concept of justice and learning. It mentions that the tribe of Issachar had tribunals in Egypt and connects them to the study halls of Shem and Ever. "And Issachar in your tents" (Deuteronomy 33:18), teaches that the tribe of Issachar studied a lot of Torah.

Finally, Rabbi Pinḥas ben Yair offers a truly unique perspective. He notices that the word "hikriv" is written slightly differently here, missing a yod, a Hebrew letter. He connects this to the ritual of the parah adumah, the red heifer. The red heifer had to be "red, complete, unblemished, without having borne a yoke" (Numbers 19:2). Rabbi Pinḥas ben Yair sees in the four letters of the shortened "hikriv" a connection to these four requirements of the red heifer.

So, what does it all mean? Why this deep dive into one little word? It seems to me that the Rabbis are teaching us that leadership, influence, and even divine favor aren't always about who was born first or who demands attention. Sometimes, it's about wisdom, counsel, justice, and a deep connection to Torah. And sometimes, it’s about something even more mysterious, a connection to rituals and ideas that are far beyond our full comprehension.

What qualities truly make a person worthy of leading, of being heard, of going first? Maybe the answer lies not in clamoring for position, but in cultivating wisdom and offering guidance to those around us. Maybe, just maybe, that's how we truly "present our offering" to the world.

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Exempla of the Rabbis, No. 180Exempla of the Rabbis (Gaster, 1924)

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Exempla of the Rabbis, Moses Gaster (1924) · Public Domain

Rabbi Meir was traveling through Samaria when he encountered a Samaritan who was proud of his lineage. "I am a descendant of Joseph," the man declared, claiming descent from the most illustrious of the twelve tribes, the dreamer who became viceroy of Egypt.

Rabbi Meir examined the man's genealogy and shook his head. "You are not descended from Joseph," he said. "You are descended from Issachar, whose name was Shomron." The Samaritans, who took their name from the region of Samaria (Shomron), were connected not to the glamorous tribe of Joseph but to the more modest tribe of Issachar, the tribe of scholars and students.

The Epitropos, the chief magistrate, of the Samaritans heard what Rabbi Meir had done and delivered a cutting rebuke to his fellow Samaritan: "This rabbi removed you from Joseph but did not even manage to bring you all the way to Issachar." In other words, Rabbi Meir had taken away the man's prestigious ancestry without giving him a secure replacement.

The exchange reveals the bitter rivalry between Jews and Samaritans in the Talmudic era. Both groups claimed descent from the tribes of Israel, but each denied the other's claims. The Samaritans wanted Joseph's glory. Rabbi Meir gave them Issachar's humility. And the Samaritan leader saw the insult embedded in the correction.

But there was a deeper truth hidden in Rabbi Meir's words: Issachar was the tribe devoted to Torah study. To be descended from Issachar was, in the rabbinic view, no demotion at all. It was an invitation, if only the Samaritans had ears to hear it.

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Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Genesis 49:15Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Genesis

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Targum of Jonathan ben Uzziel, trans. J. W. Etheridge, London, 1862 · Public Domain

In the Hebrew, Issachar is called a "strong donkey bowing under its burden" (Genesis 49:14). The image sounds pastoral, a beast of fields and heavy loads. Targum Pseudo-Jonathan reframes the entire picture. "He saw the rest of the world to come that it is good, and the portion of the land of Israel that it is pleasant; therefore bowed he his shoulders to labour in the law" (Genesis 49:15).

The burden is not sacks of grain. It is Torah. The Targum reads Issachar's bent back as the posture of the scholar hunched over a scroll, the student who has chosen study over comfort because he has glimpsed the olam haba, the world to come.

The verse closes with a stunning detail: "and unto him shall come his brethren bearing presents." The other tribes would pay tribute to Issachar, not as subjects to a king, but as beneficiaries to their teacher. In later rabbinic tradition (Bereshit Rabbah 72:5, Talmud Megillah 6a), Issachar became the archetype of the scholar-tribe, the one from whom understanding of times and Torah flowed out to Israel. Jacob saw it at the deathbed. Bent under the yoke of law, Issachar was the richest brother in the room.

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